Chapter 1: The Morning of Enrollment
Starting today, I will become a mob character.
Standing before the mirror and adjusting the collar of her uniform, Roselia Torres told herself that.
Until a few hours ago, she had never planned to think such a thing.
The moment she woke up on the narrow dormitory bed that morning, an entirely different life had flooded into her mind.
A country called Japan.
A place called a university.
A workplace called a library.
Memories of thirty years spent classifying books, arranging them on shelves, and helping people find what they were looking for.
And the way that life had ended.
Roselia looked away from the mirror.
There was no need to recall the cause of death.
What mattered was the situation in front of her now.
Within those memories, there had been a single game.
A romance game set in an academy in another world.
A story where the protagonist captured the hearts of noble sons, led by the crown prince.
And now, she was inside that game’s world.
Embroidered on the chest of her uniform was her family crest, a small design shaped like ivy.
The Viscount Torres family.
A house whose name did not even appear in the game.
Not the protagonist.
Not connected to any capture targets.
Not even a villainess doomed to condemnation.
Just a mob character.
“…Isn’t that perfect?”
The moment she said it out loud, some of the tension left her shoulders.
If she were a villainess, condemnation would await her.
If she were the heroine, she would be dragged into troublesome romantic events.
But a mob had nothing.
Nothing would happen.
If she stayed quiet for three years, she would graduate without incident.
She looked at herself in the mirror once more.
A girl with chestnut hair tied low, her features plain and unremarkable.
As a viscount’s daughter, she maintained the minimum standards of grooming, but she lacked the brilliance that would make her a topic in high society.
Perfect.
Flawless as a mob.
Roselia left her dorm room.
The entrance ceremony was held in the academy’s grand auditorium.
Light filtered through stained glass set high in the ceiling.
The polished stone floor echoed with the footsteps of hundreds.
The new students sat according to their family rank, while the headmaster and honored guests lined the stage.
Roselia’s seat was near the back.
A reasonable position for a viscount’s daughter.
In the front sat the sons and daughters of dukes and marquesses, their backs straight.
While the headmaster delivered his welcome address, Roselia compared the scenery before her with the game’s memories.
On the front right, a blond young man stood out, attended by a single royal guard.
That was the first prince, Alexis Louvain.
The main capture target of the game.
Do not approach.
Several rows behind him, a young lady with white hair styled high.
She bore the crest of the Duke Valenstein family.
Katia Valenstein.
In the game, she was one of the “arrogant duke’s daughters” condemned as a villainess.
Do not get involved.
On the opposite side, a young lady with reddish hair tied casually.
The Marquess Nelson family.
Viola Nelson.
The second villainess, condemned as the “scheming marquess’s daughter.”
Naturally, do not get involved.
The third villainess—Elen Bergkhardt of the Count Bergkhardt family.
Where was she?
In the middle rows, a black-haired girl with her hair cut neatly below her ears and an expressionless face.
That was likely her.
The “cold count’s daughter.”
Do not get involved.
Do not get involved.
Do not get involved.
Roselia repeated it three times in her mind.
The headmaster’s greeting ended, and the introductions of guests began.
Then a single young woman stepped onto the stage.
Soft flaxen hair.
A gentle smile.
A sacred emblem of the temple shining on the chest of her white robes.
“I am Marianne Celestia, a Saint certified by the Temple.”
A murmur swept through the hall.
It was unprecedented for a Saint to enroll in the academy.
The new students leaned forward, and the nobles in the guest seats narrowed their eyes in interest.
Marianne surveyed the hall from the stage and offered her congratulatory speech in a voice filled with compassion.
“May your academy lives be filled with light.”
Her voice was soft and warm, reaching every corner of the auditorium.
The young lady seated beside Roselia gasped in admiration.
Only Roselia was watching something else.
Marianne’s gaze.
While delivering her speech, her eyes turned toward specific directions three times.
The first time, toward Katia.
The second, toward Viola.
The third, toward Elen.
She was appraising them.
The game’s memories told her that this Saint was the one who would drive the three villainesses into condemnation.
Her stomach felt heavy.
But it had nothing to do with her.
She was a mob.
Whatever happened to those three had nothing to do with her.
Roselia lowered her gaze and folded her hands in her lap.
The ceremony ended, and the new students began filing out of the auditorium.
Roselia followed the flow of people without standing out, walking quietly down the corridor.
She had already decided where she was going.
The east end of the academy building’s old wing.
The library.
She had read the academy guidebook sent before enrollment from cover to cover.
In the list of extracurricular activities, there had been one entry: Library Management Assistant.
Recruitment: one person.
Duties: management and organization of the collection.
Compensation: none.
Applicants were to apply to the teacher in charge after enrollment.
This was it.
If she stayed in the library, she would not stand out.
Her interactions with others would be minimal.
And she could directly use her experience from her previous life.
The perfect hideout for a mob.
As she turned a corner in the corridor, it happened.
Ahead of her, a male student stumbled.
The stack of documents in his arms flew into the air, papers scattering across the hallway.
Roselia stopped.
She could walk past.
Like a proper mob, she could pretend not to have seen it.
Her feet moved.
Before she realized it, she was already crouching down, picking up the papers.
As she gathered them, her fingers unconsciously checked their contents.
Document numbers.
Dates.
Recipients.
The order was a mess.
Her habits from her previous life moved her hands on their own.
She arranged them by date, separated them by recipient, and checked for missing numbers.
It took less than ten seconds.
“Here you are.”
She held out the neatly organized stack and looked up at the other person.
A young man with deep blue eyes was looking down at her.
He was tall.
His uniform was finely tailored.
The crest on his chest—she did not recognize it.
It was not in the game’s memories.
“Thank you.”
He accepted the documents and glanced at the stack.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
“…You arranged these impressively.”
“No, I only sorted them by date.”
“Not just by date. You separated them by recipient and even checked the document numbers in sequence. With this amount, and this speed.”
Roselia fell silent.
She had overdone it.
This was not something a mob would do.
“I plan to apply for the library management assistant position, so I’m somewhat good at organizing documents.”
She offered the excuse lightly and took a step back.
The young man held the documents to his chest and smiled gently.
“I see. I use the library often, so I may be in your care someday.”
“Please feel free to use it.”
With that, Roselia began walking away.
She felt his gaze on her back but did not turn around.
She had decided not to get involved.
What was she doing on the very first day?
That crest did not appear in the game.
Which meant he was either a mob or a character not included in the game at all.
Either way, he should have nothing to do with the main storyline.
They likely would not meet again.
Roselia told herself that and hurried down the corridor toward the library.
The library was at the east end of the old wing.
When she pushed open the heavy wooden door, the smell of old paper and ink filled her nose.
It was dusty, but not unpleasant.
It was the same scent as the library from her previous life.
The shelves were tall, reaching the ceiling.
But the arrangement of books was chaotic.
A history book beside a botanical encyclopedia.
A cookbook mixed in among magical theory texts.
The only catalog seemed to be a single old parchment hanging on the wall, not updated in over ten years.
Roselia walked between the shelves, checking each spine one by one.
It was terrible.
But it could be fixed.
At the back counter sat a white-haired teacher.
This was Teacher Muller, the one in charge of the library.
His name had been listed in the enrollment guide.
“Excuse me. I would like to apply for the library management assistant position.”
Teacher Muller looked at Roselia over his reading glasses.
“You are the first applicant. In fact, the first in five years.”
“Will you accept me?”
“There is no reason to refuse. Come starting tomorrow.”
That was all.
No interview.
No screening.
Naturally, since no one wanted the job.
Roselia sat in the old chair beside the counter.
The wood creaked, but it was not uncomfortable.
Afternoon light streamed through the window, dust dancing gold in the air.
This would be her place for the next three years.
Three years spent organizing books in this chair, unseen and uninvolved in anyone’s story.
That was fine.
That was best.
A small irritation pricked at her chest.
Irritation at herself for picking up those documents in the corridor.
The surprised look on that young man’s face.
The slight happiness she had felt when he praised her organization.
No.
That had been unnecessary.
For three years, she only needed to remain transparent.
Roselia closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair.
The scent of old wood and paper surrounded her.
It was quiet.
It should have been quiet.
The library door creaked softly.
She sensed someone entering.
Roselia did not open her eyes.
There was no need.
The library was open to all students.
Whoever it was, she would respond as the management assistant.
That was all.
Footsteps disappeared deeper between the shelves.
She closed her eyes once more.
Three years.
Just three years.
If she stayed quiet, nothing would happen.
That was what she believed.